


Big Red X

by Musicisum405



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Actually my first real attempt at any sort of creative writing, Angst, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, David saves the day at some point, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Max's Parents Being Assholes (Camp Camp), Maxvid shippers please go take a hard look in the mirror, My First Fanfic, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Camp (Camp Camp), Seriously someone smile at Max, This boy is a child, What's a Beta?, max deserves better, so please be kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29326557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musicisum405/pseuds/Musicisum405
Summary: Max has been home from Camp Campbell for one week, and is quickly reminded how cruel his little world can be. Three months away from it all has shown him what it's like to be cared for and respected, and now that he knows what he's missing, can he survive without it anymore?Rated T for "talking like sailors" because cursing is a thing in Camp Camp.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my very first fanfic, and also my first semi-legit attempt at writing in general! I didn't think my first go would be a Camp Camp fic, but here we are.  
> I'm also fully aware that this isn't an original premise, I think everyone and their mother wants to write about Max escaping a rough place and finding a father figure in David. If I end up continuing this I'll try to make it as original as possible, but I also know nothing about the foster care system or anything like that, so I'd hate to do a bunch of research only to churn out a replica of every better-written Camp Camp fic.  
> That being said, since I'm new to this, some constructive feedback would be appreciated! I'm concerned about writing people out-of-character, and since no one's beta reading for me I don't know how accessible or comfortable, or maybe pretentious, my writing style is to read. All great things to let me know about if anyone happens to read this and feels the urge to comment!  
> Thanks y'all!

Max was such a fucking moron.  


He was a self-destructive screw-up who should have known better than to put himself in such a dangerous spot. He was careless, foolishly handing out keys to his neglected little heart, letting in the world while vehemently pretending otherwise. He was cynical enough to see the futility in hoping, but stupid enough to eagerly blind himself to it. He ignored his better judgement and tread too far into blissful uncertainty, and now that he found himself paying the price, he had no one to blame but himself.  


These were the things looping through whatever callously detached piece of Max’s consciousness remained as he had the bravery knocked out of him once again. He’d somehow let himself forget what it felt like to be brave. It fucking sucked.  


All it took was one comment out of place, one modicum of disrespect before the wrong set of ears, until he was forcibly reminded. His father’s fist fell again, and all Max could think was, _this is what you get. Three months out of the heat, and any self-preservative instinct you had is out the window.  
_

_This is what you get._

\----

Max sat in his room, curled up and shaking beneath the covers on his bed, playing out the day in his mind. It had begun normally. His parents worked, leaving him alone with some comic books he’d conned from a convenience store until the afternoon. When the jostling of keys sounded from outside the front door, said books quickly found the underside of Max’s bed, lest he be caught indulging himself in prohibited forms of entertainment. His mother arrived home about an hour before his father. She didn’t greet her son as she shucked her work jacket and heels, beyond a disinterested glance to confirm his presence on the living room couch, opting instead to make her way to her special kitchen drawer for a little something to “unwind” with. Max didn’t care enough to peek at which illicit vice she’d chosen for today, but the rattling of a pill bottle as she slunk to the bedroom and closed the door behind her indicated something sedating and long-lasting.  


Sighing, Max hopped off the couch and returned to his own room to continue his reading, assuming he’d have time to once again disappear his comic whenever he heard the front door signal his father’s arrival.  


Perhaps he’d been too confident in his ability to remain attentive to the sounds of the apartment, because once he hit the good part of the story, the world was gone to him. He lay on his stomach on the floor, bringing the book closer to his widening eyes as the plot twisted before him. By the time his bedroom door flew open, it was too late to hide anything, and Max had no choice but to fling to his feet and meet his father’s furious gaze.  


“You little shit, why didn’t you answer me?”  


Great. Clearly he’d come home angry; there was no chance now for a confrontation-free evening. Max cursed in his head, but aloud he only said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you...”  


Apologies never sounded sincere coming from Max, but he and his father both knew this was a scripted game. As long as he said and did what he was supposed to say and do, he’d be fine. Nevertheless, his father narrowed his eyes at Max’s noncommittal tone.  


“Your bitch mom is already high off her ass, without even starting dinner. I don’t have the patience for any attitude today.”  


Max flinched at his father’s overt resentment for his mother. As often as he’d been privy to it over his ten years, he couldn’t help the darkening of his expression any more than he could help his protectiveness over his nonviolent parent. Perhaps no child is born without even an ounce of love for their parents, and Max’s needed direction; it was his curse that “nonviolent” to him meant “deserving of love”.  


Of course, Max’s father interpreted his child’s sullen glare as some of that “attitude” he hadn’t the patience for. Max realized this as he watched his father take a step forward, but before his transgression could be broached, his father cast his eyes to the ground, where the comic book still lay.  


_Shit!_  


“Max.”  


_Shit, shit, shit!!_  


“... Yeah?” Max took a step backwards to match his father’s approach.  


“Where did you get that?” Christ, that look in his eye screamed ‘danger’. He had to tread carefully. He had to divert blame. Max’s eyes involuntarily flicked between his father’s face and his hands clenching at his sides as he advanced.  


“I found it on the ground outside the convenience store, when you sent me off to buy milk the other day,” Max swallowed, knowing how to weave in enough of the truth to skirt suspicion. Unfortunately, his father was not in a mood to be placated.  


“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, kid. You either bought that trash with _my money_ , or you stole it like the little thug you are.” Max’s retreat was halted by the wall behind him. He knew there was a chance he could get the man off his back if he doubled down. He was great at telling stories, a master manipulator. What those goddamn angelic councilors and teachers saw as his primary flaw, he considered a means for survival. He could have built a solid story to justify his panicked lie, enough of a cover to absorb his father’s ire. He was incredibly practiced at defusing the man in front of him, and if he could just calm down, it would come so naturally to him.  


But as his father’s shadow fell over him, his only thought was, _why should I have to?_  


Only a week before, at that godforsaken summer camp, his manipulative streak had been met with an unexpected kind of reverence; his boldness and his maturity inspired respect; his searing intelligence was a source of pride, not just from himself, but from the people around him! Why were the parts of himself that endeared him to those other campers and councilors the things that needed to be hidden? In his own home? From his own parents?  


For the first time, Max felt that the truth was in order. And before he could convince himself otherwise, he let it slip.  


“I didn’t buy it,” he began, “but I didn’t steal it either. The cashier kept a bunch of change from the old man in line ahead of me. He probably owed the guy like thirty bucks back but only handed him a five and some change, and pocketed the rest. The old dude left without noticing, and I threatened to call the guy back and tell him, or the police. He let me take the comics, provided I keep quiet. It was a fair trade.”  


Max’s confession was met with silence. He couldn’t tell if it was from disbelief or if his father was simply stunned to see him not backing down. He opened his mouth to defend his actions a bit more, but only ended up biting down hard on his tongue when his father’s closed fist slammed into the side of his face. He fell to the floor clutching his cheek and tasting blood.  


“You disgraceful little bastard!” His father roared. “You have the audacity to brag to me about that like it’s something to be proud of!? Do you need another lesson on proper behavior!?”  


Max stared up at the looming figure of a rage-filled man, weary from work and looking for a fight. He knew there was one way out of this, and it took a long moment to fully acknowledge it. _Apologize! Apologize, you idiot!_  


Instead, Max stood. He crossed his arms, raised his chin, and set a demeaning glare upon his father, spitting “I’m not sure a guy who hits his kid when he’s feeling small is qualified to give lessons on _proper behavior_.”  


Civility was hopeless now. And so was hope.  


Hope that Max might be seen, heard, respected. Hope that the world wasn’t truly as cruel as he’d remembered it being every single day before summer camp began three months ago.  


It took only ten minutes to cow him.  


His mother dozed apathetically in the other room. His father soon left, rubbing his knuckles and cursing under his breath. Max stayed huddled there on the carpet for some time before dragging himself to his bed and letting the tears finally fall.

\----

As midnight quietly passed, Max eased open his bedroom door and peeked in all directions. The apartment was silent and still, save for the subtle swaying of the floor beneath him, indicating what he assumed to be a symptom of head trauma. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, careful not to stagger into and break anything in the dark.  


It took longer than he would’ve liked to reach the kitchen bar, and even longer to pull himself onto a stool without slipping off like a drunk. His stomach gurgled impatiently – he hadn’t had a chance to eat before encouraging his father’s wrath – so he grabbed a banana from a bowl on the counter. He hated the things, but it was probably the safest food to eat without waking anyone. A bag of chips or even an apple would draw far too much attention, and while he didn’t think he could be justifiably beaten for enjoying an apple in the kitchen, he wasn’t about to risk it.  


As he peeled the banana his eyes caught a glinting on the counter to his right. The green numbers glowing on the microwave clock, reflected in the screen of his mother’s cellphone.  


A cellphone. Max gazed at it wistfully, wracking his brain for a magic phone number to make this hell disappear. 911? Hell-to-the-fucking-no. Max had no interest in getting the cops involved. It would ultimately be far worse of a headache for him than the one he now suffered. If he was even taken seriously, he’d be fed to the state. CPS and their bullshit foster factory couldn’t possibly stomach an older-than-his-years wiseass like Max. And he knew for-fucking-sure that he couldn’t handle their condescension and artificial compassion.  


But who else was there? Any family he had outside of his parents lived in India, and any adults he knew from his parents were just as fucked-up in the head as them. Peers or teachers from school? Like hell they’d care enough to lift a finger. Even the kids he’d grown close to at Camp Campbell lived too far away to be able to reasonably help him. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t think they deserved to be sucked into his family drama, not when they had their own to deal with.  


He needed an out. An “exit” option, one that wouldn’t ask him if he was sure he wanted to leave before he pushed that big red X. Max prided himself on his ability to survive independently. Even if it was a role he’d been forced into from the time he could fucking walk, at least he knew he could take care of himself. And right now, knowing he couldn’t get out of this on his own, he craved an escape that he could meet fully on his own terms.  


Unfortunately, as a brown-skinned ten-year-old victim of abuse and neglect, the universe didn’t work that way for him. And although he knew he was being foolish, thinking of him as anything but a potential temporary stop on his trip out of the deepest goddamn pit of hell, his vision blurred slightly as a gullible, idiotic, and unbearably kind red-haired man and his big cheesy smile came to mind.  


Out of options and desperately aching for a glimpse of genuine kindness, despite his prideful self-insistence to the contrary, his fingers closed around the cellphone, and he limped back to his room to find a particular phone number.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd keep going with this for now. I hope my first chapter was okay! I might have gotten a little more carried away with this one (though it's still not 'long' by any means).  
> Once again, any criticisms are welcomed in the comments! I'm not used to writing anything narrative and I want to improve wherever possible, based on what y'all as objective readers have to say.  
> And I know this one kind of ends at a weird place, but I needed to just cut it off so I could focus on whatever comes next without leaving what I've already got sitting in the dark too long.

At around 1:45 in the morning, Max returned his mother’s cellphone to the kitchen counter.

For the past hour and a half he’d been staring at it, like it might spring to life to offer him wisdom. Instead, it had sat there on his bed, almost spitefully inanimate, as he paced in a wide circle and argued with himself.

In the end, he couldn’t do it. He’d managed to locate David’s phone number, amongst the few others that had been squeezed onto a torn-off corner of a piece of paper on the last day of camp. He had the paper taped to the underside of his desk now, after briefly freaking the hell out when he thought he might have thrown it away on accident. But he’d only punched in the area code before the panic struck anew and he quickly erased it.

David was kindhearted, and as genuine as they come. But at the end of the day, David was also a massive wuss. Max hadn’t much reason to believe the man could be reliable or strong-willed when it mattered. _At least not in the long run_ , Max amended, reminded of his councilor’s occasional moments of braveness. He’d had a spine when he defended Max against that psychopath Daniel, and when he made the decision to ditch Campbell’s talent show to take Max for pizza...

_... But you deserve to be happy. And I hope you can find that here at camp..._

Max shook his head of the pleasant memory before it made itself too comfortable.

Plus, they were just way too different! David was sunshine incarnate, nauseatingly so, and Max was a perpetual raincloud. Sure, David did his damndest to make Max happy during his time at camp, but wasn’t that his job? Now that his job was over, Max wasn’t his charge anymore; he was just some troubled kid. He’d been nothing but a nightmare for David all summer, constantly determined to vent his displeasure in endlessly damaging ways. And now here he was, expecting David to leap at the chance to have to put up with his shit again – for free, even!

And above all was the understanding that this wasn’t a consequenceless action. Max was sure to drill that one into his own stubborn little head. That red X was there waiting for him, and he would have no option to save his progress if things went sideways.

Once he hit ‘call’ there would be absolutely no going back. David would get involved; or more likely, he’d get the police involved. And even if Max still ended up trapped in this hellhole, he couldn’t expect his parents to be too nonchalant about his little bid for freedom. Which meant things would only get worse for him here.

It was a sobering thought, that after making that leap and asking for help, Max could still be left here on his own. Alone. The possibility of even David turning his back on him, no matter how illogical, hurt far worse than the surety of staying. It was enough to deter Max from giving fate, or David, a chance to see it through.

So he put the phone back, telling himself it was for the best. _David’s above dropping everything for a kid like me_ , Max assured himself. _It’s better to not get my hopes up_.

Somehow, of all of Max’s incessant justifications, that was the one that prevailed.

\----

David glanced at the clock for the first time in a while and blanched at the hour. He’d been preparing to sleep ages ago but something had kept him up. Some inexplicable anxiety had him glancing at his phone and scrolling through his messages aimlessly. He had no idea what he was looking for, but something told him he should try to fend off sleep for just a bit longer.

So here he was at almost two in the morning, quietly strumming random chords on his guitar to keep the fatigue at bay. At a certain point he’d simply zoned out, too tired to question what the heck he was even doing anymore. Now that he noticed just how late it was, he figured it was a miracle he hadn’t already had a neighbor pounding on his door and demanding some silence.

David propped his guitar against the side of the couch and inspected his phone once again. Still, nothing out of the ordinary. He frowned at his odd behavior, knowing full well that he shouldn’t be expecting a late-night call from anyone. He decided to blame his odd feelings of unease on a lack of sleep and forced himself to his feet.

At his bedside, David succumbed to a lengthy yawn and stretched his arms over his head. He then donned an on-brand and eager, if not drowsy smile as he laid beneath his covers and plotted out tomorrow’s activities in his head. He didn’t get too far in his planning; sleep quickly claimed him.

Even still, his dreams were troubled and turbulent, as he raced toward _something_ unknown yet so vital, always out of his reach or just around a corner.

“Pine... oak... cedar...” David mumbled in his sleep.

When his eyes slid open later in the morning, his uncharacteristic grogginess had him concerned once again.

_Boy, I sure hope I didn’t forget something important..._

\----

The setting sun glinted along the windows of the minivan receding in the distance, momentarily blinding Max as he watched it leave. That had been Nerris’s ride. Her parents had been so excited to take her home, especially her geek dad, raving about a brand new RPG he couldn’t wait to introduce her to. Max couldn’t help but glare, jaw clenched, as they shared a long hug before piling into the car. Their saccharine familial affection almost made him nauseous. Nerris waved at them from the backseat as they pulled away, and Neil and Nikki returned the bittersweet gesture.

“Man, I hope we see Nerris again next year! We had so many great adventures together!” Nikki sighed sadly, despite her ever-present grin.

“Really?” questioned Neil. “She wasn’t much more than a comedic extra in a lot of our trio-centric adventures.”

“Nuh-uh! She was a core member of _my_ trio-centric adventures!” Nikki argued.

“When the hell were you part of a different trio?” Neil sounded incredulous. “That feels... blasphemous.”

“It _was_ a blast!”

“I mean it feels like a betrayal, Nikki!”

“Aw, don’t take it that way Neil! A girl’s gotta be able to _relaaax_ sometimes.”

“What kind of ‘relaxing’ qualifies as an adve—” Neil was cut off from further inquiry when he realized Max was walking away from them, hunched over with his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. “What’s wrong, Max?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, continuing to slink away. “Just get the bantering out of your system. You won’t have it much longer."

Nikki and Neil hit each other with a puzzled look before hurrying to follow him. “Come on, Max!” Nikki enthused. “This doesn’t have to be ‘goodbye’! We’ll exchange phone numbers so we can talk all the time, and we can visit, too! If you ever wanna hunt a Sasquatch together just say the word!”

“Yeah, and you guys can come be my lab assistants any day,” Neil chimed in. “I’ve got my eye on some volatile chemicals in the lab at my dad’s college and I’ll need a couple extra pairs of hands to—”

“I don’t have a phone.”

Max had stopped walking, but he was sullenly staring at his shoes in a decidedly un-Max fashion. “The hell am I supposed to call you guys without a phone...” His eyes were glistening and it unnerved his friends. They were silent for a moment while they worked out how to approach this rare side of him.

“Well,” began Neil with a shrug, “I don’t actually have my own phone, either. And I doubt Nikki does—” she shook her head as confirmation, “—so really we’d just be exchanging our parents’ numbers. You can borrow your mom or dad’s phone occasionally, can’t you?”

Max snorted derisively. “Yeah, right. I’m sure my folks’ll be pissed enough that I even went and made friends in the first place.”

“Why would your parents be mad that you made friends?” Nikki asked innocently, head tilting like a confused puppy. Neil seemed to catch on that Max’s home life might not be all that pleasant, but allowed Max to address it himself. He was gripping one of his arms and looking at the ground like he was ashamed to have brought it up. And dammit, Max noticed his behavior – his pity – but he gritted his teeth and attempted to answer Nikki in as unbothered a tone as he could manage.

“With my folks, a kid with friends is just extra work. Letting me borrow their phones, driving me places, scheduling and shit...” Max shrugged, “It’s bad enough they gotta feed me and whatnot. It’s easier to not have to accommodate a social life.”

“Bullshit.”

Max and Nikki both turned to Neil, whom Max now noticed was shaking, rather severely. He took another look at his taller friend and realized he’d read his body language completely wrong. He wasn’t ashamed, or wracked with pity; he was _pissed_.

“So they’re too busy to let their kid have a social life? Then what’s even the goddamn point in having a kid?”

Despite the tone of the conversation, Max found himself with a small, grateful smile on his face. Still, part of him hated to see his friend so worked up on his behalf. “Look, Neil—”

“No.” He was flat-out cut off. “I know I don’t know a lot about your home life, Max, but your parents sound like fucking assholes!” Neil’s eyes were red with the promise of violence. Max was almost afraid he’d go in for a kill if his folks showed up before Neil was gone. He’d be lying if he said part of him wouldn’t have liked to see that. “I mean, the illogic of it is just offensive! To bring a human life into the world only to meet it with such sheer apathy—” he was sputtering in his rage at this point, waving his arms about like a Muppet, “This is why people should have to have licenses to get knocked up!”

Max hesitated before placing his hand on Neil’s shoulder in as friendly a gesture as he could muster at the moment, and it seemed to calm Neil down a bit. “How does this not make you furious, Max?”

“Silly!” chirped Nikki, locking the two into bone-breaking sideways hugs before they could protest. “Max is always furious!”

Another brief smile crossed his face before he sighed, resigned, giving up and leaning into the hug. “I’m just used to it. Besides, there’s not much I can really do about it.” Silence set in once again, this time more companionable. After a few moments the boys untangled themselves from Nikki’s practical choke-holds, and Max awkwardly bumped Neil in the arm with a fist. “Thanks for the righteous anger though. Maybe one of these days I’ll call in a request for some sciency wrath... blow something up.”

“Of course, Max. My lab is always open.”

“Heya, kiddos!” The trio jumped and Neil let out an undignified squeal. David stood beaming at them with his fists on his hips. One hand held a clipboard. “Just the three of you left now! I sure hope I can count on seeing each of your faces here next summer!”

Nikki grinned and nodded enthusiastically, exclaiming, “You bet! No camp lets me get away with wild mischief quite like this one! I mean, what kind of self-respecting camp doesn’t even have a deadly mascot to round off the cast!” The platypus _muack_ -ed from just behind them, appearing as though summoned. Neil screamed again.

Max, meanwhile, was eyeing the clipboard in David’s hand. On the first page he could make out a list of the campers, with every name but theirs crossed off. Without preamble, he reached for it and tore a chunk off the bottom of the page. “Hey!” David protested. Max considered his little scrap of paper for a moment before opting to yank the whole clipboard from David’s grasp, this time without much complaint. A pen was stuck through the clip. Max handed the clipboard and the paper scrap over to Neil.

“I can’t give you a phone number, since my folks would probably toss me off a roof if they started getting random calls from you guys,” he didn’t notice David flinch at that, “but I can at least have your numbers, if I ever get a chance to call or something.”

“Sure thing,” Neil said as he wrote his name and number. He passed it off to Nikki, who did the same.

“We’re gonna hunt so many cryptids together!” She went to hand it back to Max, but David snatched it up first. He started writing his own name and number, and goddammit how did his fucking signature look like it was smiling?

“Here’s mine too, Max! Just in case!” Max rolled his eyes but didn’t refuse the piece of paper when David handed it down to him.

“Whatever.” He tucked it away in his pocket. The sudden honking of a horn then sounded from the camp entrance. Nikki must have recognized the sound because some unreadable emotions crossed her face just then.

“That sounds like my mom’s car,” she said, sounding significantly less chipper.

“Not happy to see her?” Neil asked, but Nikki was already shaking her head.

“It’s not that. I’m just sad I have to say goodbye to you guys!” She pouted, rapidly pulling them in for another group hug. Neil and Max both gasped for air, but returned the embrace.

Max couldn’t remember feeling this warm. Surrounded by his friends, some of the only ones he’d ever had, who were so willing to kill a bitch for his sake, in a place where he’d felt safer and more at home than he ever had before, no matter how unwilling he was to admit it out loud. But the moment ended much too quickly, with Nikki pulling away, tears in her eyes but a smile gracing her face. Max didn’t really pay attention to her and Neil’s own exchanging of phone numbers, or her gift of a painful last hug for David, who looked like he might asphyxiate to death as a result, because he was far too busy trying to ignore the sudden chill of loneliness that began when their own embrace had ended and continued to deepen the further Nikki walked away.

“Don’t forget to call, guys!” She called. “I’ll miss yooouuuu!”

_Fuck, don’t leave._

He wanted to tell her how grateful he was for her unconditional acceptance, apologize for probably never getting to talk to her again, but instead Max only managed a weak “Bye, Nik” and a sad wave.

And then the back of her green head was gone.

_Why did you get attached to these people? This was always going to be the end result. Do you enjoy getting hurt?_

Neil and Max stood alone; David had gone with Nikki to see her off. Max could tell simply from proximity that Neil felt some small degree of that same chill when Nikki left the circle, but he knew Neil could never know the full extent of her – and soon his own – absence on Max.

“Finally, some damn peace and quiet,” Max quipped to tamp down the unpleasant emotions he didn’t care to sort through at the moment. It came off rather irreverent, but Neil didn’t seem to mind.

“Tell me about it,” he huffed, playing along. “Some lab assistant, filling every breath of silence with random noise.”

Another twenty or so minutes passed as the two joked and griped at each other, sitting side-by-side beneath the flag pole. David’s voice eventually called from somewhere, “Neil! Your dad’s here to pick you up!” Neil gave an irritated sigh before hauling himself to his feet.

“Guess this is it.”

“Guess so,” Max replied, standing as well. They shook hands, rather rigidly, before Max surprised them both by pulling him into one final hug. It was a quick one, but not uncomfortable. Max laughed awkwardly. “I think I’ve had more hugs today than literally ever before.”

“Eh, that’s fine. Hugs are only tolerable when the people are tolerable.”

“You should be honored then. I clearly tolerate you.”

Neil grinned. “Asshole.”

“Douchebag.” They shared that smile for one more moment before Neil made a final farewell two-fingered wave and went to find his dad and David. On his way, he turned once more and made a promise.

“Call me if your parents need to be taught a lesson! I swear to God I will pipe high-concentration hydrochloric acid into their faucets!”

The accompanying imagery was gruesome, and the brand of vengeance impractical, but Max was relieved to have the moral support nonetheless. He replied with a thumbs-up.

Neil left. Max felt it like a blow to his gut and sat hard in the grass, rubbing at his eyes. They all left. Nikki, Neil, Nerris, Harrison, Preston, fucking Space Kid. All of them. He was alone again, and he should have been prepared for it all along, but the pitiful truth was that he wasn’t. He frantically reached for the piece of paper in his pocket to make sure it was still there and gripped it in his fist. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the tears from falling. He laid back in the grass and rolled onto his side to try to hide it from any passerby.

The only passerby was David – who else was there besides Gwen, who was packing her stuff up in the counselor’s cabin? – but upon seeing Max’s shaking shoulders, stricken with a kind of grief that was probably foreign to him, he wasn’t sure at first how to approach.

David felt a troubling mix of helplessness, guilt, and corrosive anger – the latter of which unsettled him the most – upon recalling what Max had said to his friends earlier, his comment about his parents harming him for handing out their phone numbers. Although it wouldn’t have been unreasonable to assume he’d simply whipped out some classic Max-style dark humor, there had been a sadness in his eyes that made the statement all too real.

David hated to think that he’d overlooked such a strong emotion in his camper as pure dread at returning to normalcy, especially now that it was likely too late to do anything about it. Max’s parents would be here soon to take him home, and if half the distress that David now saw in his shaking little form was due to that fact... well, how could he just sit by and ignore it?

With renewed conviction, David strode toward the child, prepared for a kick in the balls or whatever else he might suffer for daring to address Max’s plight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, it's been a hot minute, huh? This one's tiny. I didn't mean to take so long for so little, but it's hard to find time. I'll try to be more frequent, but I can't make any promises.  
> Once again, if anyone has any constructive feedback or anything, please leave a comment. I want to improve as a writer, so I gotta hear y'all's opinions!

It could barely be considered morning to Max when his eyes cracked open; he couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep.

The issue was that his sudden return to red alert, courtesy of the violent encounter with his old man the night before, had him more paranoid than was probably reasonable. He wasn’t exactly expecting an early morning beating – it would be a waste of energy for his father – but he couldn’t control the sense of impending danger that a deer might feel in a lion’s den. As useless and dramatic as that analogy was, Max begrudgingly understood the reasoning, for the twenty seconds or so that he chose to pay it any attention.

Growling in frustration, Max shook his head violently to wake himself up, and to discourage the creep of self-pity. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. His alarm clock read 7:30 a.m. – fucking-early-o-clock for the weekend. His mother’s sleep schedule wasn’t always predictable, but Max figured he could expect to see her somewhat early this morning, since she passed out directly after work yesterday. Or maybe she wouldn’t wake up until the afternoon. _I guess there’s no sense in guessing. I’ll see her if I see her._

His father, on the other hand, was an early riser, even on weekends. Which just meant more opportunities to piss him off. Unfortunately, sleeping late was a surefire way to do just that. As much as Max dreaded having to see him and act pleasant that morning, he was less likely to inspire any anger if he just went out there, kept his head down, and got it over with. So, he hopped down from the bed and went about readying himself for the day.

Once he was showered and dressed and all that jazz, he found himself dragging his feet when it came time to exit the bathroom and undoubtedly join his father in the kitchen. He had his hand on the knob, but turning it was a real chore. Instead, he rested his forehead against the cool wood, scowling at his cowardice. _Fuck that. Is there really any reason for me to go out there right now? It’s not like I’m sleeping in, so I should be perfectly fine to just wait here until Mom’s up..._

The shocking sound his stomach made just then was a great motivator, however, so he rather quickly sucked it up and pulled open the door. After all, the only thing he’d eaten last night was a gross-ass banana.

As he rounded the corner into the kitchen area, Max noticed his father right away. He was at the dining room table, reading the newspaper like some 1950s asshole who still read newspapers. Max’s stride faltered a bit in his path to the pantry, but he determinedly kept his pace. The man didn’t greet him, or raise his eyes from the newspaper for that matter, which assured Max that he was cleared to zip his lips as he grabbed a box of sugary cereal and poured himself a bowl. As he inhaled his breakfast, he briefly wondered if ‘eating quickly’ was a punishable offense that he’d somehow forgotten about, but his father continued to ignore him entirely. Max finished off the bowl and instantly poured a second. It seemed he were invisible, and while it wasn’t saying much, it was about as safe as he’d ever felt while in the same room as his father.

In complete and merciful silence, Max washed, dried, and returned his dishes (lest his reliance on the dishwasher be construed as laziness) and tucked the cereal box back into the pantry. He was nearly out of there and in the clear when his father finally spoke.

“I’m heading into the office today.” Max wasn’t sure how – or if – he should respond. “Of course it’s my job to go in on a fucking Saturday to clean up some shitstain’s accounting error.”

He lapsed into a tense pause, so Max ventured a relatively safe “Sorry to hear that...” Despite the subtle narrowing of his dad’s eyes, Max felt somewhat comfortable knowing he’d have at least a partial father-free weekend. But, of course, he wasn’t that lucky.

“After I get back later, we’re going to the store.” There it was. The ice returned to Max’s veins. A nice, fun trip to the store with the old man. “I want you to help carry shit, since your no-good mom clearly won’t be of any use today.” Now that sounded ominous. How to broach this...

“Is mom okay?” Max asked, a touch of worry lacing his voice. Concern for a parent was a commendable trait, right? Nothing to be triggered by, right? Fortunately, his father didn’t seem perturbed by the question.

“She’s never _okay_ ,” he muttered gruffly. “Just in one of her damn funks. We’ll be lucky to see her out of bed today.” Max swallowed. At least it sounded like he hadn’t done anything to hurt her. He wasn’t sure if that should surprise him.

The odd thing about their family dynamic was that his father hardly stooped to wife-beating. He had a twisted sense of moral superiority that Max couldn’t always wrap his head around; a stand-up guy would never hit his spouse (unless they deserved it), but when you slap your kids around, you’re only reminding them of their manners.

That’s why guys like him couldn’t be reasoned with. The more Max may protest, the greater his father’s civil responsibility to forcibly mold him into something agreeable.

His father snapped him out of his current tide of nihilism with a sharp “Make sure she eats today,” before standing briskly from his chair and moving for the front door. He pulled on a coat before leaving, in spite of the summer weather, slamming the door behind him as an expression of his constant, passive state of frustration. Max found himself releasing a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

_He’s gone for now_ , he told himself. _I’ll have to deal with him later... but for now, he’s gone._

\----

The new, abrupt sense of absence left in his friends’ wake made quick work of Max’s emotional stability. ‘Shattered’ was a good word for it. Unsure of how long he’d been sobbing so pathetically on his side in the grass after Neil took off, Max eventually petered off into dull stillness and allowed hopelessness to give way to exhaustion and apathy. It might have been an hour of staring at the blades of grass in front of his face before he was aware enough of his environment to realize he wasn’t alone. Just as it registered, a red-haired dimwit plopped down directly beside him, conspicuous in how he acted as though he hadn’t just been conflictedly observing a crying Max for some time before working up the courage to approach.

“What do you want, asshole?” Max grumbled without turning to face him. David leaned back on his hands and tapped the dirt thoughtfully for a moment. He could start off with an honest yet face-level answer – that he simply wanted to make sure the poor camper was doing okay – but he didn’t want his concern construed as pity. Max was a prideful kid, and David knew from experience that the most effective way to coax him to open up was to communicate clearly and bluntly. So David steeled himself for a blunt exchange.

“I heard what you said to Neil and Nikki, about being hurt by your parents—” Max sat up abruptly and whipped around at his words, eyes wide and suspicious, “—and I know you say dark stuff like that all the time, Max, and you don’t always mean it. But more importantly, I heard _how_ you said it.” Max was silent as he warred between forming a response that would deflect David’s concern and almost hoping he wouldn’t be successful in doing so. He took too long in his indecisiveness, however, and David pressed on. “I won’t pretend to know a lot about your life outside of camp, Max, but the way you talk about your parents, and how upset you were when your friends left, tells me that maybe you’re being... _withheld_ something.”

Max barked a bitter laugh at that. “ _Withheld_ ,” he spat. “That’s a nice way of phrasing it.”

“I still think it’s accurate.”

“Oh yeah, camp man?” Max’s voice shook with a sudden wash of indignant anger and he stood so he could tower over David. The effect was less dramatic, as he only ended up at about eye-level with him. “What the hell do you know?”

David fixed him with a hard stare. The look alone on David’s typically cheery face seemed to be enough to steal some wind from Max’s sails. “I know your parents didn’t sign you up for a camp when they dropped you off here. I know they didn’t leave any emergency contact information beyond a single phone number, not even a last name. I know they didn’t come to Parents’ Day, or respond to any of the voicemails we left them about it. And I know...” he broke off briefly into a grimace, “... I know from how you talk about them that they’re not the kindest of people.”

“David, your standards for kindness are so fucking high.”

“But am I wrong, Max?” The boy looked pained as he couldn’t find it in himself to deny it. He looked away from David, sitting once again and bringing his knees to his chest. They were both quiet for a few minutes, David wondering to himself if he expected Max to speak first. He seemed so uncomfortable, though. “Look...” he began. “I don’t want to be a Nosey Nellie, Max. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”

“Fine by me,” he bit out, voice muffled against his jeans.

“But I want you to know that I’m here for you. If you change your mind, or if things get bad, don’t hesitate to call me. Day or night. No questions asked, I’ll help you however I can.”

His words weren’t unusual for someone like David. But when Max looked to him and saw nothing but pure sincerity, shining through like the brilliant light of a fire built in a cold black cavern, blinding in its suddenness, unforgiving to his unadjusted eyes... well, it hit differently.

He was barely able to wrangle the tears and thwart gravity this time around, but he knew David could see his eyes shining despite his efforts. He hated that soft, sad look so goddamn much but he also craved it, and the constant uncertainty was really starting to wear him thin. “I...”

David sensed his trepidation. “It’s okay, Max.”

“David, I...”

“It’s okay.” And the finality in his tone told him it truly was. “I know you’re not comfortable talking about it right now. I don’t expect any specific response from you. I just want to make sure you understand that I gave you my number for a reason. You don’t have to call if you don’t want to, but it’s an option if you need it. Okay?”

Looking a little broken with his jaw stuck open slightly and his brow drawn tight in a bit of a wince, all Max could manage was a weak nod. David smiled. “Super!” he declared, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Now, I have a feeling someone could use a little pick-me-up from our leftover snack supply! I think there’s a pudding cup in the mess hall with your name on it!” The sudden tonal shift, no doubt intentional on David’s part, jolted Max from his unresponsiveness. He shook his head at the sudden joviality.

“You’re a fucking weirdo, David.”

“Aww, thanks! I’ll take that as a compliment!” David beamed.

“How could you possibly have interpreted that as a compliment.” There was a tiny ghost of a smile flitting over the boy’s face through the insult, so he tacked on a muttered “freak” for good measure. Nevertheless, Max was quick to hop up and follow David to the mess hall to claim that pudding cup.


End file.
